Consumption
by lucifer ravana
Summary: Someone is suffering from Stockholm. Direct sequel to Infection. Snape/Tom Riddle, Fenrir/Tom Riddle.


_"That which redeems, consumes."_

---

The first thing Severus noticed was the nose. A stark contrast to his previous, Tom's nose was flesh--colored and consisted of two nostrils affixed to cartilage that grew out of his skin and seemed more than apt to fit the young man's face. The nose was of average-length and size, made for Tom and Tom alone and reminded Severus that not only was the man sitting across from him not Voldemort, but he was still much better looking than Severus himself.

That familiar nose was situated in the middle of a face; above it rested two red eyes, neither of which were slit like a cat's or a snake's, but round and staring at Severus. Tom's mouth was encased by red, thin lips, not as thin as Severus' own but thin enough to suit the lean curves and angles of his cheekbones and chin. Black hair was combed over one eye, nearly blocking it from view and it would have been a shame if that happened, for Severus was very much aware that Tom Riddle was as handsome as he was ugly.

Tom's presence made that conclusion all the more apparent.

The horcrux seemed to be within early adulthood. Severus didn't bother asking Tom how old he was for the information was irrelevant. Suffice to say that Severus knew how old Voldemort had been and merely applied the same age to Tom.

Tom's lips had been forced apart by Severus' tongue and his teeth nearly clamped down on the red, wriggling flesh that had been forced ever so viciously down his throat. Severus' hand held tight to the back of Tom's head as he attacked his former master's mouth with his own, kissing him hard enough to bruise those pretty red lips.

Severus memorizes Tom Riddle's mouth that very night; the same night he gave life to that horcrux he had ripped from his former Master, a Master he had left for dead as it was the horcrux he had always been after. He convinces himself that this is all for the best, that Voldemort was insane, that Voldemort never meant those promises to him, that Voldemort never gave him what he truly needed.

Spidery fingers map out Tom's body as Severus removes the younger man's clothing and he thinks that this is right, that what he did was justified because Tom was the one who had promised him the world. Tom was the one who loved him. Tom could just never get out because Voldemort kept him repressed.

Severus prided himself on seeing a lot of Voldemort's internal workings. He had been the one to fool the Dark Lord for all those years, pledging allegiance to the man who slumbered inside the reptilian body and now how things have changed. Now it was Severus who was inside the human Dark Lord and the human Dark Lord was crying out and Severus' tongue lapped up the tears as he felt himself climax.

Pale skin bruised easily and turned red underneath Severus' grip but that was just Severus' way of making sure Tom was real. To hear the man cry out in pain or pleasure gave Severus a blissful feeling of reality in which he wasn't doomed for every second he was alive. The red eyes were not tinged with madness and the body was far too easily broken to belong to his former Master. Tom was as human as he was and while his power was greater, Tom would not dream of using such curses on Severus.

That very notion was the same one that made Severus take a step back after he had pulled back and realize that there was something very wrong with this horcrux.

Tom bled the same color as himself. Tom bruised, same as himself. Tom was vulnerable, same as himself. Severus' hands traveled the span of Tom's body, carefully touching his own half-moon marks he had made when he dug his nails into Tom's thighs. This was a minor injury, yes, but still an injury. Perhaps Tom would think of it as a badge of honor.

Severus was hard-pressed not to think of the nail marks as his own brand upon the Dark Lord but banished that thought quickly as it was not only traitorous but if he was to brand Tom, it would have to be something lasting.

---

"I am Tom Marvolo Riddle," Tom practices in the mirror across from Severus' bed. They live in a small house that was filled mostly with books. The bedroom was small but the size made Tom think of it as cozy and secure. Security was a must with him these days and he did not venture into the outside world, nor would Severus let him.

Severus had proved himself to be fairly strict in the beginning. After their first night together in which Severus did not allow Tom a chance to feel his own body before Severus' own body joined his, Severus had seemed to try and rectify the situation, as though the situation needed rectifying. Tom bore Severus no ill will but Severus insisted on ensuring a peaceful household. He had come home with more books the next day and found Tom in front of the mirror, touching the glass with one hand and his face with the other.

Severus had been quick to pull Tom away from the mirror and into the other room, lecturing him on how it was unwise to see too much of himself at this stage. Tom needed to remember his past first and then can he handle the full shock at seeing his new features.

Tom did not fully understand this reasoning but he didn't question it either. Severus had been the one to give him life so it was Severus he trusted. Severus provided for him, made sure he had food to eat and books to read and Tom's world slowly started to converge upon Severus and what Severus did for him.

It wasn't long before he forgot about the life he had left behind and visions of his past were depleting from his memory until he was able to confirm the past to be vicious and cruel. He was someone else then, another beast had been inside of him, had gained control. He could see dead, pale faces looking up at him and a girl who had floated over to him, her face buried in dark water.

Severus would shake his head if Tom brought these memories up and he would tell Tom that it would be best to forget them. They may not have been his own memories but those of the other. Neither of them had any way of knowing which was which but Tom tried to forget them just the same. Anything connected to his past was treated with almost scorn and fear. He had no desire to go back to the world, no desire to control the masses, and no desire to kill.

He felt his name was important somehow in blocking out the past. He addressed himself as Tom Marvolo Riddle whenever he could and had asked Severus to call him as such. Severus did so when he remembered but most of the time, he was only Tom.

There was magic in that name, Tom had decided. A magic far too powerful to be ignored and when he addressed himself to the mirror, his features seemed to blur for a few minutes. When he blinked, the image would fade back to normal and he'd be left looking at his own image as though nothing had happened.

He hid this knowledge from Severus as he did not think his caregiver would understand. While keeping secrets from Severus made him feel guilty, Tom tried to make it up to Severus in other ways. At night, he would caress Severus' body in precisely the manner Severus had taught him to do so. He would kiss the other man on the mouth and hiss words in Parseltongue that Severus longed to hear. He would be pliant and move when told to underneath Severus and he would hold him afterwards as Severus whispered in his ears foreign terms that spoke of love, loyalty, and protection.

Tom could only grasp the last term. Protection was what he needed from Severus and Severus was so kind to grant it to him. Severus kept him safe and warm. To leave Severus seemed positively appalling to Tom. So much so that when Severus was in a foul mood, Tom made certain to make sure he was available and willing to avoid being thrown out of Severus' bedroom.

For the most part, Tom enjoyed his and Severus' nighttime excursions. Their fun would vary depending on Severus' moods, sometimes Severus would be on top, sometimes he would let Tom take him. Sometimes, when Tom hadn't behaved properly, Severus wouldn't let him climax. He'd keep Tom right on the edge and Tom would be nearly in tears and he would beg and only then would Severus allow him to make a mess onto his sheets. Afterwards, Tom was so very grateful to him.

---

The world was full of twisted ironies and Severus had long since decided he would forever be living within one. His own irony began back in Hogwarts where he had long since been passed over in favor of Gryffindors, despite his own merits, all the way until now where he found himself having to take care of his former master who was, for all intents and purposes, grotesquely unwell.

Severus had entertained the idea that the horcrux within Voldemort had been damaged in the final battle, irreparably so. His mind continued to spin the thoughts of Voldemort who rarely seemed the bastion of sanity and in those thoughts, perhaps the horcrux needed only time to become fully cognizant of its own thoughts. Life could not have been easy residing within the body of a madman. Now that Riddle had been taken out of that environment, it had been Severus' hope that Riddle would not only continue to follow the Cause of all Purebloods but that he would treat Severus with as much respect as Severus thought he deserved.

One out of two wasn't so bad.

The irony that would have made Severus laugh were it not happening to him, was that after spending a few weeks with the horcrux, he had decided, subconsciously at first, that he did not want Riddle following in the Dark Lord's footsteps.

This momentous occasion sprung up one night during their lovemaking where Tom was begging and Severus had his crop in hand, bringing it down once and again upon the pale flesh of the man below him. In the midst of orgasm, Severus had silently thought that he wished this would never end.

Traitorous thoughts, especially since Riddle was destined to become the Dark Lord. The momentum of such an idea, that Severus could possibly prohibit that destiny from coming into play, was enough to stop the activities for the rest of the night. Severus had not fallen asleep for a very long time afterwards.

He awoke with the idea of driving Riddle into the position of a Dark Lord to make up for his own passing thoughts, but that was abandoned in lieu for his own justifications. Riddle wasn't ready for such a position. He lacked the mindset. He lacked the emotional growth. He lacked the ability to get out of Severus' house for longer than a few minutes. To thrust the horcrux into such a burden would be an extremely unwise move and, at this point, Severus could not afford any unwise moves.

In order to get Riddle ready and prepared for such an endeavor, Severus first had to figure out how to fix the bloody horcrux. Such research material wasn't available to him in his own house so, after convincing Riddle that he would be gone for only a short while, Severus went back into the wizarding world.

He maintained such constant vigilance that Moody would have been proud of him. Ever since the Dark Lord's defeat and his vanishing with the last horcrux, he had been hunted down by more than one hitwizard. Rumor had it that Potter was also on the lookout for his old Professor. Even though Severus wore aging glamours over his body and acted in a way much suiting a grizzled old man, he was still convinced that everyone's eyes were upon him and that he had been discovered.

Such wariness made certain that he completed his task quickly and efficiently enough so that he wouldn't have to go back out into this world again. He found his answer in an old stack of books in Flourish and Blotts that dealt not with horcruxes, for Severus had been through them already, but with certain damages of the mind.

_"Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), formerly known as multiple personality disorder, is a disorder in which a person has more than one discrete, separate identity. Each identity is unique, and has its own sets of memories, ideas, thoughts, ways of thinking, and purposes. One identity may be the protector, while another may be a child. DID generally results from a severe traumatic experience during the early childhood years."_

He had closed the book after reading that paragraph, believing it had nothing to do with his current research, only to open it back up a few minutes later.

_"The traumatic experience had been so brutal that it often causes the victim to develop a new personality in order to handle the emotional turmoil."_

There was little else in the book of interest. While the wizarding world knew enough about Muggle psychology, the books within the store were based more on magical applications. Severus did not dare look further, his mind was working too quickly.

Was it possible, could it have been that there never really was a Lord Voldemort? That the Dark Lord had been thought up due to a 'traumatic experience' in Riddle's own childhood? Perhaps the horcrux wasn't damaged after all and it was only just now awakening to a life away from the trauma and pain that Voldemort had taken into himself.

If that was so, then wouldn't Riddle have the mentality of a young child? Or be mentally at the age as he was when his own personality vanished? If so, then how could Riddle know Severus? How could he know whom to trust?

Very little added up when it came to Riddle and Severus was not surprised. Even with such a twisted mentality, Riddle was difficult to pin down or classify.

Nevertheless, Severus' excursion into the outside world left him with two conclusions. The first was that he could not repair the horcrux and thus, Riddle could not follow his destiny into becoming the Dark Lord. His second conclusion was far more hazardous to his principles. He decided that he did not want Riddle to try to become anything other than what he was. He would vastly prefer it if Riddle stayed with him and he would do anything to ensure that nothing interfered with their lives.

Riddle, despite his dangerous inclinations and proclivities and his background, was beginning to feel like safety to Severus.

He would protect that feeling for as long as he could.

---

"I would very much like a wand."

Severus paused in the act of washing the dishes from the night's dinner. His wand hung in midair, as though it knew Riddle had brought it up. Severus' eyes widened a bit before he regained his composure.

"Why is that?" Surely a wand in Riddle's hands would threaten the peaceful coexistence of them. Riddle could do things with a wand that no wizard in his right mind should ever do. There was always the possibility of an accidental killing curse...

"You have one," Riddle replied, rather matter of factly, though he had been giving the situation a great deal of thought. "Since I'm a wizard, I think I would very much like to have one for myself. I would be like you."

Therein slipped the truth. Unfortunately, it was a truth that complimented Severus far too much, so he did not believe it.

"Don't lie to me." Outside of the bedroom, Severus rarely spoke down to Riddle, his voice a hushed breathy whisper filled with promises of pain.

Riddle could only look confused. "I'm telling you the truth. I would like to have a wand."

Severus felt the familiar stirrings of fear within him. The last time Riddle, or any of his previous incarnations, had held a wand, he had been at the receiving end of a lot of pain and his Lord had gotten torn to ribbons by Potter. The very thought of granting Riddle anything that would bring about that madness was infuriating to him and completely implausible.

"You shall not have one." Severus' tone was uncompromising but the fear didn't let up. How far would Tom push? How much further until he gave in and the entire scenario happened again?

"But you have one. So I feel it's only right for me to have one as well." Tom's fingers clenched and unclenched in spastic movements, so quick that Severus' eyes nearly missed it.

Tom would continue to push, Severus knew, and sooner or later, he would give in. Hadn't he always given in to his Lord's demands? Ah, but this time his Lord was not in the right mindset. His Lord was asking for his own destruction and what if Tom went behind his back and took his own wand or the spare he kept locked up in case of emergencies? What if Tom didn't stop pushing?

Riddle would not learn nor understand unless Severus showed him and the thought made Severus physically ill. The very idea of someone like him doing _that_ to his Lord was unthinkable. Yet, it was a Knight's job to do what was needed, which included saving the Dark Lord from himself if necessary.

Severus' long fingers curled around the handle of his wand as he plucked it from midair. He held it out halfway, as though allowing Riddle to come closer and touch it. Riddle moved forward, his body tense, and Severus waited until Riddle was just out of reach of the table so that his Lord would not accidentally hit his head.

"Crucio."

The power of the spell was not so harsh, for Severus did not mean to cause blinding pain. Just enough so that Tom would learn and would not ask for a wand again. Just enough to make him understand that wands could hurt him if he ever tried to reach for Severus'. Just enough that Severus felt his old pain being soothed while he watched his former Lord writhe against the kitchen floor. He could feel his own heart beat accelerate the louder Tom cried out. Tears pricked at his eyes when Tom yelled out his name. He wondered if it had pained Voldemort this much whenever he had placed Severus under this curse.

There was something intrinsically beautiful about the way Tom moved. Like a coiling serpent, Riddle would curl up around himself, as though to protect his insides and then he would viciously spring out of the fetal position and his head and neck would move back towards the table and his legs would scramble at the floor. His fingers were more claw-like as they made white marks against the small tiles and oh, how Tom's expression would change drastically, alternating from pleading silently with Severus to outright contortions as he screamed.

The movement reminded Severus of watching Voldemort duel. Everything was so fast-paced and Voldemort never truly walked or ran like a normal being. He slithered and glided. Those robes of darkness that hung around his pale frame accentuating the flow of his body, how they would cater to his every action, as though embellishing the Dark Lord's aura. As though the Dark Lord really _needed _embellishing.

Severus ended the curse when he felt it had gone on for too long, but he did so a bit unwillingly. Riddle twitched and spat out blood upon the floor and Severus immediately cleaned it, afraid that it would leave a permanent stain of the night's traitorous act.

He had placed the Cruciatus Curse on his own Lord. Yet Riddle wasn't punishing him. He wasn't moving much aside from the muscle spasms. Severus watched Riddle's chest move up and down in time with his labored breathing and he was shocked to discover that he was aroused.

He dared not let Riddle know. Making certain his robes were loose enough around his waist, he finally knelt down next to his Lord, his fingers caressing black strands of hair.

"That is why you must not have a wand, Tom. It will hurt you." He had such a soothing voice, such an insidious grasp of tones that seemed designed to soften any blow.

Riddle could only nod in compliance.

---

Severus never apologized for the Cruciatus. Riddle was more than willing to believe that Severus was sorry enough. His mind hurt more than his body as the spell had wormed its way into his memory and forced out images he did not understand. Within those memories sat more lost images of a ghostly girl and a hissing whisper that echoed in the bathroom. He felt red eyes watching him and wasn't surprised at all when he saw that two yellow ones were staring at him through Severus' dusty window.

Fenrir Greyback had an amazing nose and a sense of direction that was unparalleled by anything else in the wizarding world. During the final battle, Fenrir had lost an arm due to Lupin's teeth cutting through the tendons and bone. He had destroyed Lupin for such treatment but the cost had been brutally painful. An arm for a life was how Fenrir thought of that battle and once the pain died down, he wasn't so sure it was such a loss on his side. He could still hunt on three legs and he was far more animal than human.

He had tracked the scent of his Lord and Master all the way to Severus' hovel and had started staking out the place. He left his messages on Severus' doorstep in tight, coiled rings of dung that Severus only had to wave his wand to make them vanish.

Severus knew of the threat Fenrir posed even while Riddle was left purposely in the dark. Fenrir would poke his nose in through the window, place his hand upon the glass and breathe and pant at them both when the full moon wasn't in the sky. When the transformations came, he howled at the front door, as though begging to be let inside like the good dog he could never be.

Riddle had asked questions, of course, for the wolf had piqued his curiosity and Severus' answers were short and curt, not allowing for much discussion.

All the same, Severus knew that the day would come when Riddle would open that door while Severus was out and allow the wolf inside. What would happen then was anyone's guess but Severus did not care for the idea of Tom being torn apart due to a lack of control over Fenrir. The question for him was how much longer could he allow this to go on, for Riddle was already getting agitated by the wolf's howling and Fenrir's ability to trample over their privacy.

Severus could feel the strain on himself as well and were this a different situation, he would have contacted the Ministry by now and let them come to kill the wolf. The situation, however, was more desperate than that and Fenrir knew it.

"Do you want to allow him in?" Severus asked of Riddle as Fenrir peeked at them through the back window. "It will stop him from his idiocy." The only concern Severus had was in the amount of control Riddle had over Fenrir, if any at all.

Surely, if Riddle couldn't control Fenrir, then the wolf would have busted through a window by now to devour them while they slept. Severus would have to have faith.

"I think I would like a pet," Riddle replied, his good humor returning to him with the prospect of something being done about the situation.

Severus seemed about to protest that Fenrir was most definitely not a pet but the words died on his lips. Riddle wanted Fenrir inside and Severus wanted to keep Riddle content.

The door was opened that night and Fenrir graced Severus with a derisive sniff before going over to Riddle and bowed only once before dropping onto the floor by Riddle's feet.

The beast seemed satisfied but Severus felt discomforted. Perhaps it was the familiar way in which Fenrir presented himself to Riddle. Perhaps it was the bow that reminded him that Riddle would not be fulfilling his destiny under Severus' own orders. Perhaps it was the look in Fenrir's eyes as Riddle's hand crept through the man/wolf's tuft of hair and lazily stroked him in a way that was far too reminiscent of the olden days.

Whatever the case, Severus knew that his life with Riddle could very well come crashing to a halt if something wasn't done.

The scenario soon grew wretched for Severus. He would watch Fenrir slumber by Riddle's side, eat beside Riddle, nudge Riddle's hand onto his scalp whenever he demanded attention, and would, nightly, attempt to get up onto the bed where Riddle slumbered with Severus. The attention was ingratiating but Severus felt himself becoming more and more annoyed with how Riddle catered to Fenrir's every need. If the man/wolf was hungry, Riddle would fix him a meal. If Fenrir wanted to play, Riddle would be more than happy to wrestle against the beast upon the floor while watching out for the many piles of books. If Fenrir desired attention or affection, Riddle would close the book he had been reading and run those long fingers through Fenrir's ragged hair and call him his own.

Severus felt his hatred growing, a hatred he had kept suppressed for years after the final battle. There was no Potter for him to take out his anger this time. He began leaving marks upon Riddle's body, angry red scratches here and there where his nails had pressed against tender white flesh. Riddle's neck was dotted in spots of red where Severus' teeth had pressed down as he ignored Tom's soft whimpers for him to not bite so hard.

Most of all, Severus made certain that Fenrir saw them couple nearly every night. At the peak of orgasm, Severus' eyes would find Fenrir and he would smirk that infuriating smirk he used to give Potter when he was sure the boy would be expelled.

Times have changed, Severus wanted to say. I own him now.

A month passed before Fenrir retaliated by shifting his body up onto the bed after both men had climaxed and lay panting in one another's arms. Severus could only stare as Fenrir's tongue came into contact with Riddle's cheek and a thin sheen of saliva shown upon Riddle that separated himself and Severus.

---

Despite Riddle's obvious enjoyment of Fenrir, Severus had come to the conclusion that the wolf had to leave their lives. He could not risk the wolf showing other Death Eaters to where their Lord and Master resided. He could not risk Riddle going back to his old ways. Most of all, he could not risk Tom abandoning him for a destiny he wasn't ready for.

He told neither of them his decision, of course, but there was a gloom within the house that lingered into doorways and crept through the creaking floorboards, infiltrating the occupants' thoughts during those few moments of silence when Fenrir was not nuzzling Riddle and Riddle was distracted by his own thoughts. In those moments, Severus feared that one or both of them knew what he had planned.

Severus contemplated the Muggle way of exterminating dogs. He thought of Muggle guns that made loud noises as though to prove their effectiveness and Fenrir's dead body laying in a puddle of blood. The image was satisfying but the method was unclean, tainted by the Muggles and where was he to get a gun? He thought about turning Fenrir in to the Ministry, an anonymous donation of fangs and matted hair, but there would be questions and Fenrir might talk.

In the end, Severus returned to his potions like an old friend. A strong mixture of dragon's blood with arsenic made for a volatile combination that when tinged with the right amount of bobutuber pus eliminated the odor and taste from any foodstuff the mixture was injected.

For irony's sake, Severus' potion made its way into the soft biscuits Riddle would normally feed to Fenrir after dinner. Fenrir would beg like a starving dog and Riddle would indulge him as any kind master would, but Fenrir was no obedient dog and Severus was convinced only he could see it. However, he would make sure his hands were clean in this. It was more fitting, he decided, if his Lord fed Fenrir the toxic biscuit.

It was his Lord, after all, who decided who lived or died. It was his Lord who determined their date of death. It was his Lord who condemned. This decision must be left up to him.

There was a quiet horror about Severus as he watched Riddle idly finger the biscuit, thumb circling over the exact spot where the needle had entered. The biscuit was tossed in the air and perhaps it was Severus' imagination but he could swear he heard the jostling of the potion right before it was caught within Fenrir's mouth.

The greedy wolf rarely bothered with chewing and swallowed the biscuit down. Severus chanced a look at Riddle and if his Lord knew about the poison, he did not show it.

Fenrir became sick that very night, gagging and retching upon Severus' floor and Riddle had all but begged Severus to allow Fenrir to stay the night inside the house, for it was cold out there and Fenrir was obviously sick. Severus pointed out that he would get sick if he had to smell the wolf's vomit for the rest of the night.

Fenrir had glared at Severus even as he was ejected out into the cold.

The morning after, Riddle had awoken first and had quickly gone outside to check on his beloved pet. Fenrir was laying on the ground, stiff and cold and Severus had come outside to find his Lord kneeling over the wolf and idly stroking its fur.

This was the first time in nearly two years that Riddle had ventured out of Severus' house and Severus wasted no time in ushering his Lord back inside where the fire awaited him as well as breakfast. Outside meant death and Fenrir had learned that lesson, Tom had since decided though he did not voice these thoughts aloud to Severus.

When Tom's hand started reaching for the biscuits, Severus' hand smacked Riddle's own away from the poisoned treats. Riddle had looked at him in wide-eyed shock and to cover for the hasty movement, Severus gathered up the basket of biscuits.

"These are rotten," he explained in the hopes of distracting Riddle. But he did not miss the look upon his Lord's face when Riddle fully realized the calamity that had befallen Fenrir and just whose fault it had been.

Severus held him tenderly that night, vowing to bury Fenrir's body in the morning. Riddle lay stiff in his arms, his fingers curled up around Severus' pajama top. While Riddle could not feel guilt for what he had done, Severus had the ability to feel such things for him.

Hot tears touched the top of Riddle's head as Severus buried his face in Riddle's hair. If asked, he would say that he was crying because Riddle could not.

It was a shame that Riddle never asked him.


End file.
